


tattooed

by flowersandsunshine



Category: Lovely Little Losers, Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Donalduke - Freeform, F/F, F/M, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, beadick, chelsey x paige, kittie, meg will definitely be included, pedrazar, some other relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 03:06:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5989848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersandsunshine/pseuds/flowersandsunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you fall in love with someone, their unique tattoo appears on your body.<br/>Nothing Much To Do/Lovely Little Losers au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Beatrice frowned and looked up at the clock nervously, tapping her foot, her fingers against her leg, tapping, tapping, tapping.

Her mom looked up and smiled sympathetically. “You okay?” She finally asked.

“Mum,” Beatrice said slowly, “what do I do if I get a tattoo and…”

“And you don’t… want the person to see?” her mom tried to answer.

“No!” Beatrice sighed. “I guess health class just… It was really confusing. I don’t really understand why you have to get other people’s tattoos on your bodies when you fall in love or whatever. It doesn’t make sense.”

“A lot of things in this world don’t make sense, Beatrice.” Hermione smiled. “A lot of things.”

Beatrice sighed. “Can you tell me about them?”

“Again?”

Beatrice nodded.

Hermione pulled her shirt sleeve down and began weaving words together to tell her story again. “This tattoo belonged to a boy named Erik. He was an asshole.”

Beatrice giggled and leaned back, determined to enjoy the story, fighting to keep her mind from wandering, from wanting to know who would bear the mark of Beatrice Duke, whose marks she would wear on her body proudly, whose she would ignore forever…

\---

“Did you get a tattoo yet?” Hero asked dreamily, lying on the grass, staring up at the clouds.

Beatrice nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“Who? What’s it like? I heard it sometimes hurts.” Hero glanced at her cousin curiously.

“A girl named Ali,” Bea said, hoping she sounded flippant. “It was just a crush. And it didn’t hurt, not for me.”

Hero was quiet for a few minutes. 

“Can I see it?”

Beatrice pulled her shirt up slightly to expose the top of her hip.

Hero’s eyes went wide as she stared at the tattoo of a fairy inside a rose. “That’s beautiful,” she whispered. “I can see why you fell in love.”

“It wasn’t love,” Beatrice emphatically denied. “I think these work for crushes as well.”

“They can’t,” Hero said before falling silent.

“Hero? Hero,” Beatrice said, smiling wickedly, “tell me about him.”

Hero shook her head. “Can we not?”

\---

Pedro Donaldson had her tattoo.

Beatrice knew that she wasn’t supposed to think those words, those were bad words, but Pedro Donaldson had her tattoo.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She sighed and avoided Pedro whenever she had the chance. Now, he would bear the mark of Beatrice Duke for the rest of his life, and she would never be able to forget, because it was on the underside of his arm, for all the world to see. 

Pedro called her name and she froze before turning around. “Pedro!” she exclaimed, smiling brightly. “Who’s this?”

“Ben,” Pedro said by way of explanation. “He just moved here from England, but he’s pretty cool. You’re pretty cool.”

Ben grinned. “Beatrice. I’ve heard much about you. Your tattoo is pretty rockin’, as well.”

Pedro rolled his eyes and Beatrice caught a slight blush. “Shut up, Ben.”

Ben just waggled his eyebrows. “Really, though. I like your tattoo. Says a lot about you.”

Beatrice’s eyes flew to where the corner of her tattoo was peeking out from under Pedro’s arm, a heart surrounded by a chain. “Thanks,” she said dryly.

“Do you want to come to the game later?” Pedro asked. “I just got voted into leadership, so…”

Beatrice tried not to sigh. “Sure, Pedro, I’d like that.” She smiled. “Maybe I’ll bring Hero.”

“Maybe you will.” Pedro smiled before dragging Ben away.

\---

Beatrice’s heart sank as she saw her cousin’s shatter into a million pieces. She wanted to shake Claudio herself, scream at him, tell him just what kind of a person he was. But she couldn’t. She was here, for Hero.

Hero was crying, staring at the tattoo on the top of her wrist, a symbol of Claudio that was visible forever, stuck to her body. She rubbed it, once, twice, still crying, desperately trying to get rid of the example of her first love.

Ursula came up behind Beatrice. “Can I do anything?” she asked quietly.

Beatrice shook her head. “No. Thanks, Ursula.” She spontaneously hugged the girl. “You’re such a good friend to Hero. I wish I had noticed earlier, you know?”

Ursula shrugged modestly. “I guess I have ulterior motives,” she whispered.

“What… what do you mean?” Beatrice asked cautiously.

Ursula sighed. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, go on, tell me,” Beatrice prompted her. 

Ursula stared at Beatrice before bending over and taking off her shoe. There, on the top of her foot, was the unmistakable mark of Hero: a superhero mask over the sun. “I wish it had never appeared,” Ursula admitted. “First one.”

Beatrice hugged her again.

“Please don’t tell,” Ursula whispered. 

Bea wasn’t sure if she was crying or not. “Of course not,” she whispered back.

Ursula nodded and stepped back. “Well, if you don’t need me, I guess I’ll get going.”

Beatrice nodded back and watched Ursula leave.

Ben came upstairs and put his hand on her shoulder. “Do you need me for anything?” he asked softly.

Beatrice turned and glanced at him. He looked worried sick. She shook her head. “I think I’m just going to spend the next few days with Hero. Thanks for all your help, Ben.” She hesitated before plunging on. “I honestly thought you were a dick, but recently, it’s been fun to spend time with you, and tonight, you were a godsend. I don’t know what I would do without your friendship.”

Ben’s hand instinctively went to his shoulder and he swallowed. “Yeah. I… I don’t know what I would do, either.”

Beatrice decided to hug him, too. What the hell. It was that sort of night.

Ben sort of trembled in her arms, and he ended up placing his chin down on her shoulder while she comforted him. For what, she didn’t know. 

Funny how that didn’t matter anymore.

\---

Beatrice woke up a few days later with nine tattoos. 

She was getting dressed when she glanced in the mirror and saw something that scared the hell out of her: A new tattoo. One she vowed she would never have, never, ever, ever. 

It was that crappy, child-like image of the dinosaur bird thing. The one Ben loved so much.

Shit.

Beatrice sighed and pulled on a long-sleeved shirt. No one would ever see this, not on her shoulder blade.

She would just wear full backed shirts from now on.

\---

Ben was rambling. He did that a lot.

Beatrice couldn’t help but smile. She had the awful feeling that she looked rather lovesick, but it wasn’t voluntary. She couldn’t turn it off. Benedick was just so… endearing. And she loved it.

Ben stopped talking suddenly, interrupting her in the middle of a thought. “Beatrice,” he said.

Bea nodded. “Yeah?”

“I have your tattoo,” he blurted out.

“I know, Ben.” Beatrice’s smile grew. “I know.”

“Do you?” he asked quietly.

“Where is it?”

“How do you know I have it when you don’t know where it is?” Ben asked.

“I had a feeling.” Beatrice laughed at the look on his face. “Mine is on my shoulder blade.”

Ben’s mouth dropped open slightly before he recovered himself. “Same. Do you know what that means?”

“No…” Beatrice said slowly. “What does that mean?”

“You’ve heard the stories, yeah? When two people have each other’s tattoos in the same place, it’s significant.” Ben waited a moment. “It’s indicative of soulmates.”

Beatrice laughed suddenly. “No, no. We’re not soulmates. We hate each other.”

“I love you.”

He said it so simply, like it was a matter-of-fact statement, like it changed nothing. Like the tattoos said it for him already. Like Beatrice’s heart wasn’t about to burst.

“Isn’t it funny,” Beatrice said, trying to calm her racing heart, “how I love nobody as much as I love you.”

Ben’s face broke open into radiance, a smile that looked both parts ridiculous and wonderful, as he simply smiled at her.

“Besides Hero, of course,” Beatrice added when he didn’t say anything.

“Hero comes first.” Ben nodded. “She’s lovely.”

“She is.” Beatrice kept looking at his face, looking, looking…

Ben’s smile softened into something gentler. “I love you,” he said again.

“I love you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has loved so many people.   
> "Tattoo after tattoo after tattoo.  
> And then, of course, Balthazar."

Peter’s tattoos were a reminder of all that he had lost. He gave his heart out again and again, and never had his tattoo been found on the person he loved. It stung, but his heart was freely given out, once again. What was his heart, if not his to lose?

Sometimes, he made a mental list of every tattoo, reminding himself of the person and the story behind the unique image.

Amanda, the girl with the lily tattoo. The lily had the words “Stay alive” woven through. Amanda was a fighter, a girl he admired for her determination to make a mark on the world.

Sarah, a tattoo vibrant and sparkly, without form, just a mist that had color so alive he wanted to drown in it. Peter wanted to marry that girl when he was twelve. 

He watched Sarah slowly die of cancer during his thirteenth year. He was never given the chance to stop loving her.

Ian, the first boy Peter ever got a tattoo from. His cloud, rainbow, and lightning bolt tattoo was strange but showed who Ian really was. He was soft, and bright, and lovely, and stronger than people thought. Ian loved girls exclusively. 

(This was the year Peter learned there was ugliness in the world beyond trash or the ozone layer or cancer. This was the year Peter learned about bullying and harassment, and cried himself to sleep over and over again.)

Lucy, the brightest star in the galaxy, a girl who showed Peter new worlds and let him into her head in a way nobody else had ever done for him.

Beatrice, a girl with a chain around her heart, letting no one in except the one person she had sworn to never let in.

Claudio, who loved Hero. Peter understood. 

Tattoo after tattoo after tattoo.

And then, of course, Balthazar.

This was always where Peter stopped. He didn’t want to think farther on this subject, never again.

Tattoo after tattoo after tattoo came after Balthazar. He didn’t want to think about those ones, either.

\---

He and Balthazar had been dancing the same dance of could-I-should-I for years. Peter had Balthazar’s tattoo, a picture of four quarter notes on a treble clef staff, spelling out “cage” with the music notes. Peter always wondered what it meant, but Balthazar never showed him his tattoo, and Peter would not show Balthazar voluntarily.

What if he doesn’t love me back?

How will this heart survive another heartbreak?

Peter never asked.

\---

There were certain phrases that showed off their relationship in a special way, moments Peter held on to for a long time. 

“Balthazar… will you go outside with me?”

“This is an ode to Pedro.”

“Men are deceivers ever.”

“Fuck hummus.”

The fight after they went to town. The looks, glances, the seemingly innocent hand holding. “Stay.” 

“Come with me.” “I can’t.”

The sonnet for Balthazar, from Petrov. 

These moments all came together to form a base for a relationship that Peter had only ever dreamed of having. Every time a significant phrase happened, he could feel it in the tingle of the tattoo on the underside of his wrist.

\---

“I love you.” Peter had never felt so hopeful, so alive, so confident. Balthazar loved him back; he was sure of it, like he had never been sure of anything in his entire life. If he was wrong, he knew nothing about life and human nature and of love.

“I… kind of… love you, too,” Balthazar admitted. Peter almost laughed.

Their first kiss may have been just a kiss, but their first hug as a couple was electrifying, comforting, intense, and peaceful all at the same time. 

\---

“So where’s my tattoo?” Peter asked Balthazar one day.

“What?” Balthazar asked. He glanced up from his homework, looking adorably confused. “Your tattoo?”

“You know.” Peter sighed and took off his watch, showing Balthazar where his tattoo was placed. “This is yours.”

Balthazar studied it for a while. “You know, I never really knew how this worked, but I figured it wouldn’t be quite so emotional.”

“What?” Peter asked.

“To see my mark on someone else, that’s… that’s something. I don’t think I’ve seen that before.” Balthazar smiled and touched Peter’s wrist, reverently. “It’s lovely.”

“Did Damien not…?” Peter didn’t need to finish the question.

Balthazar didn’t need to answer.

Peter cleared his throat. “So… C’mon, Balth, where’s my tattoo?”

Balthazar flushed. “It’s on my thigh,” he mumbled.

“What?” Peter asked. “I couldn’t hear you.”

Balthazar glared at him but couldn’t quite hide his smile. “It’s on my thigh, Peter Adrian Donaldson,” he said.

“All three names! Wow.” Peter smirked without meaning to. “On your thigh, huh?” He paused. “Does this mean the soulmate myth is false?”

Balthazar flushed even deeper before shrugging. “I guess that’s up to us to decide. But I should do my homework…”

“Okay.” Peter placed his chin on his hand and watched Balthazar work for a while. 

“So, will I get to see it sometime?”

Balthazar threw his pencil at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS PEDRAZAR'S FIRST VALENTINE'S DAY AS A COUPLE I'M SO EMOTIONAL ABOUT THIS TONIGHT


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hero and John reconnect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright alright alright  
> i know the stigma surrounding the donalduke ship and I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND OK it took so much for me to even think about shipping them  
> so, this may not be what you think. just so you know.   
> (happy platonic love day)

Hero had two tattoos: Her own and Claudio’s. And, quite honestly, that was one tattoo too many.

She frowned as she wrote her paper and saw his tattoo moving with her hand, back and forth, gently. This tattoo was not a symbol of gentleness for her. It was a symbol of pain, and yet, Claudio was her first love, and the tattoo should be significant beyond the pain, and yet, and yet, and yet.

Hero used to love Claudio’s tattoo. It was a block of gold, a bright AU painted on the side, pure gold. She used to believe it, but the events of her recent past forced her to acknowledge that everyone has faults, everyone has weaknesses, and everybody is a little screwed up.

She just wished she wasn’t screwed up so much.

\---

She watched John Donaldson out of the corner of her eye for almost a year. She was always tense around him. Whenever she caught a glimpse of wild, black, curly hair, she turned and walked the other direction. It probably wasn’t right, or kind, or fair, but she couldn’t stand to be around him, not after everything. Not after her sixteenth birthday. Not after the tattoo on her wrist became a scar on her heart.

She hoped he understood.

\---

“Do you think you’ll ever fall in love again?”

Hero smiled sadly and shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

Beatrice sat up and studied her cousin intently. “I think you feel broken now, but it will pass. This is all temporary. And, as a bonus, if the feeling of brokenness doesn’t pass, you’ll have eternity in the afterlife to try to fix it.”

“Thanks, Beatrice.” Hero laughed. “So how’s Ben?”

Predictably, Beatrice’s face lit up. 

She was so predictable.

\---

Meg glided in like the majestic creature she was. Hero had always thought Meg was a phoenix, burning her path ahead and behind her, leaving her mark wherever she went in a blaze of glory. Meg’s phoenix tattoo probably had something to do with this.

“Hey, Meg,” Hero said, sitting comfortably, tea in hand. “How are you?”

Meg fell down onto the couch across from Hero and sighed. “I’m exhausted, but you know what? Life is good.”

Meg had more tattoos than Hero could ever imagine having, Hero with her two tattoos. 

Meg had twenty-three tattoos, and wore them like a badge of honor.

“And how are you, my Duchess?”

“Oh, please.” Hero winked. “I am a Duke.”

“Good for you. Fuck gender roles.” Meg reached over and took Hero’s tea. “May I?”

Hero laughed. “Go right ahead.” She watched Meg drink her tea before reaching to take it back. “I’ve been a little lonely, what with Beatrice and Ben planning their trip, and Peter and Balthazar in Wellington, and Ursula leaving for the United States. Even Dogberry and Verges have moved away. I honestly never thought it’d just be me and Claudio left here, all alone.”

“I’m here!” Meg exclaimed.

“Yeah, for a bit, but then you’ll go back to Wellington, with Balthazar and Peter,” Hero said. She shrugged and took a sip of her tea. “It’s fine, honestly.”

“John’s here, too,” Meg suggested.

Hero made a face.

“Okay, so still no John.”

Hero shook her head, burying her face in her tea mug.

“You know…” Meg hesitated before plunging on confidently, “I thought spending time with him, when he came up to Wellington, would be terrible, but it wasn’t. He was… He was kind, and intelligent, and still clever, but he used his cleverness for good.”

“I know, I know, I saw the videos,” Hero snapped.

Meg raised her eyebrows slightly. “Alright.”

“Sorry.” Hero sighed. “I just… I can’t do it.”

“Alright.” Meg smiled. “So. What do you want to do? We can shop, or go eat horrible food, or sit here and gossip about everyone we used to know. Thank goodness for Facebook, am I right? Keeping me updated on everyone long after they’re gone.”

Hero smiled. “Oh, Meg. I’m so glad you’re maintaining your beautifully kind soul.”

Meg laughed. And laughed again. “Oh, Hero. I’m glad you’re still that little snarky girl I met all those years ago.”

Hero nodded. “Imagine when we’re eighty and still being snarky to people, and gossiping about them as if we don’t have a kind bone in our bodies.”

“We’re truly soulmates,” Meg said. “Saltmates.”

Hero laughed. It felt good to laugh again.

\---

Hero was walking to the coffee shop on campus to study when she noticed a familiar person sitting down across the green. She hesitated before walking slowly up to the person on the bench. “J-John Donaldson?”

John looked up slowly from his book and his eyes got wider. “Hero? Hero Duke? Really? Do you go here?”

“Yeah.” Hero shrugged. “I go here.”

John looked dumbfounded for a moment but he recovered himself quickly. “Do you want to sit?”

Hero sat down tentatively, spreading out her skirt cautiously, keeping up the wall she thought she had broken down the year before when she had gotten her third tattoo (Mark. A supposedly cool guy who pressured her into doing more than she was comfortable with. His tattoo was on her heel, a blessing after what happened with Claudio’s.).

John’s eyes flicked to the tattoo on her wrist and Hero felt the urge to cover up the mark of Claudio. Apparently, being around John again made all those old feelings, those resentments well up in her once more.

He ended up smiling, a genuine, nice smile that caught Hero off guard. “How are you?” His voice was gentler than she remembered.

“I’m… I’m good.” She hesitated, remembering what Meg had told her just two years before about John changing. “Would you like to maybe, uh, get coffee?”

John studied her, an analytical look in his eyes before nodding and standing. He put his book into his backpack – Kafka, Hero noticed – and tilted his head to indicate the path they should walk down.

Hero went down it willingly.

\---

They ended up talking and laughing for more than two hours. 

“It’s funny how the memories of old friends doing stupid shit can break down old barriers,” Hero said, wiping her eyes from the most recent bout of laughter.

John nodded, still chuckling. “Especially since one of those friends is my dumb step-brother. I love him so much.” He shook his head. “Amazing how far we’ve come, isn’t it?”

Hero agreed. “It’s amazing.”

“So…” John pointed at her wrist. “Is that the only one?”

“What?” Hero asked, suddenly remembering who she was talking to. John Donaldson. 

Breathing was suddenly hard.

John sighed, and the light mood was broken, the illusion of gaiety gone. “I just… I used to wonder if you would ever fall in love again. I hoped you would. I hoped I hadn’t ruined you forever.”

Hero swallowed, hard, before shaking her head. “One other. Last year. Mark.”

“It didn’t work out?”

Hero shook her head again. “No.”

They were both quiet for a moment.

“What about you?” Hero asked.

“No tattoos besides my own,” John said.

Hero’s head shot up. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really.” He smiled to himself. “It’s nice. I’ve never really had to worry about that kind of thing.”

Hero couldn’t believe it. “You’ve never had a crush?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“What,” Hero whispered, “what is that like and how do I manage that?”

\---

“So you and John?” Ben asked one day. He and Beatrice were home for the holidays.

Hero laughed and caught John’s eyes. She thought about the tattoo on the back of her calf, an onyx stone with flecks of turquoise and purple flashing in it, so uniquely John. She thought about John’s tattoo-less body. “No. We’re just good friends.”

Ben squinted at her oddly, as Ben was prone to do. “Really?”

“Benedick,” Beatrice said, interrupting them, “it is possible for guys and girls to be best friends, you know.”

Ben gaped at her before placing his hands over his heart in mock horror. “Impossible! Say it isn’t so!”

They began bickering happily and Hero slowly backed away. She went over to John and extended her hand.

He took it and smiled down at her. 

“Do you wish you had what they have?” Hero asked quietly. “They’re so in love.”

“They’re soulmates.” John smiled. 

“It’s beautiful.” Hero smiled back.

John planted a quick kiss on the top of her head before letting go of her hand and stepping back. “We should interrupt them before Beatrice’s cookies start burning.”

“Or better yet… we could take over,” Hero said slowly.

John smiled slowly. “She would hate that.”

“Let’s do it.” Hero smiled. 

She seemed to be doing an awful lot of that lately.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paige and Chelsey.   
> Do I really need to say anything else?

Paige strummed her ukulele and hummed for a while, whatever came to her mind. Music was floating in the air above her head, calling her, asking her to sing and make waves of sound, and she could never refuse.

Her mom knocked on the door. “Hey, Paige, Daniel’s here.”

Paige sighed and sat up. “I don’t know that…”

“You should see him,” her mom said emphatically. “I think it will be good for you.”

“Mum.” Paige frowned and placed her ukulele down. “I know you don’t agree with me, but this is a real thing. I like girls. Daniel… He likes me, but I don’t like him back, and I will never like him back.”

Her mom studied her daughter for a moment. “Please go spend time with him. He came all this way.” She left with no further comment.

\---

Paige smiled at the girl sitting across from her. 

“Sorry,” the other girl giggled. “I’m a little nervous.”

Paige could tell. Her eyes were going everywhere, her leg was bouncing up and down, her breathing was too fast, too irregular. “Is this your first time on a date with another girl?” she asked. Probably not very tactful, she would laugh at herself later.

The other girl nodded.

“Okay.” Paige reached her hand over the table and grasped the girl’s hand. “I’m Paige. It’s very nice to meet you.”

She smiled. “I’m Chelsey.”

Paige couldn’t help but grin at the bright look in her eyes. 

“Okay, I’m sorry to ask,” Chelsey continued, “but this is very important to me. Do you like cats?”

\---

Paige got Chelsey’s tattoo three weeks later. She had heard that it took forever to fall in love, that just a few weeks was just a crush and she could easily forget her childish feelings for this girl, this girl who made her feel more alive than any girl had ever made her feel before. 

Paige could never, ever forget her feelings for Chelsey. She studied the new tattoo with interest, on her bicep, a tattoo of a cat playing with a Polaroid camera, and smiled, curious as to the meaning of the odd picture.

Her smile grew even more the next week when she spotted a pigeon on the back of Chelsey’s neck.

That was the first day she said, “I love you.”

That was the day her life really seemed to begin.

\---

Paige wrote songs for people. It was what she did. Sometimes, she would meet people and talk with them for an hour, and she just knew what their chorus would be, how the music would sound, everything about their song.

Sometimes, she met people and would have to really get to know them to make their music come alive in her head. 

Chelsey took over a year. Getting to know Chelsey so intimately that she could write a song about the love of her life, well… That was a privilege.

When they were about to move, she realized she knew what Chelsey’s song was, that she had known all along – for she was the one with heaven in her lips.

\---

Paige dialed nervously, gripping Chelsey’s hand for comfort, the way Chelsey had gripped hers on their first date, oh how, oh how things come full circle, she thought. The phone rang three times before it got picked up.

“Hello?”

“Mum?” Paige glanced at Chelsey, who nodded reassuringly, her eyes saying all that her mouth couldn’t. “It’s me.”

“Paige! It’s good to hear from you. How’s it going?”

Paige sucked in her breath and let it out slowly. “I’m… I just wanted you to know before anyone else.”

The silence on the other end was nerve-wracking. “Are you sick?”

“No! No, Mum, I’m not,” Paige hastened to assure her mother. “I’m… Chelsey and I, we’re engaged!” She couldn’t help but smile. Engaged.

Her mom was quiet for a moment. “Paige… Congratulations. I’m so, so happy for you.”

Paige’s eyes filled with tears and she leaned over to quickly kiss Chelsey’s cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, trying not to cry. “Thank you.”

“Have you set a date? Is Chelsey there? Can we Skype? I’m so excited for you, baby.”

Paige let out a sob and handed the phone over to Chelsey.

“Uh, hi, Mrs. Moth, Chelsey here! Paige is currently crying, so I took the phone.” Chelsey smiled at her girlfriend, ran her fingers through her hair. “What were the questions?”

Paige was so grateful.

\---

“Look how far we’ve come,” Chelsey said. She smiled. 

“Happy Valentine’s, babe.” Paige wrapped her arm around Chelsey’s shoulders. “Six years together and still going strong.”

“You left your ukulele on the kitchen counter,” Chelsey said, very seriously.

Paige was taken aback. “Sorry?”

“I told you, I told you to put it away, but there it is, just sitting there, getting ready to be splashed on when I do the dishes.” Chelsey threw her arms in the air dramatically and began walking back to the flat. “Can’t get anything done around the house, because music is the main focus, and it’s just lying around everywhere. Sheet music. Instruments. Balthazar Jones. All just lying around.”

Paige laughed and ran to catch up, linking her arm through Chelsey’s. “What are we gonna do tonight?”

“I don’t know.” She smiled and pulled closer to her wife. “We could listen to some music.”

“You just said!” Paige laughed.

“Still going strong, huh?” Chelsey stuck her tongue out at Paige and laughed. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Paige leaned over and kissed Chelsey’s neck where the pigeon tattoo was. “So much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love them so much give me all the paige and chelsey


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg Winter had fifty tattoos.   
> Now she has fifty-one.

Meg Winter had more tattoos than she could remember, honestly. She fell in love easily, loved for a short time, and moved on without so much as a broken heart. It was easy, it was fun, it was casual. It was a good thing for her.

She couldn’t think of anyone who had more tattoos than she did. Her friend’s grandmother had almost thirty-five—Meg had more. Peter Donaldson had thirty-seven. Meg had more. Meg wore hers like a badge of honor, with pride and excitement, love, and the feeling of being complete. Her tattoos did that for her.

Meg was grateful her personal tattoo was on her ankle, like everyone else’s, because if it hadn’t been there, she honestly couldn’t say if she would know which one was hers. Nevertheless, it was there on her ankle, where she left it, a small butterfly emerging from the chrysalis, about to spread its wings and take flight.

Compared to the tattoos that covered her arms, legs, and torso, Meg’s tattoo was small and dainty. It was hers.

\---

Vegan Fred was eating dinner when she walked in. “Hey, Meg,” he said calmly, putting down his fork and standing to greet her, like the national treasure he was. “How was your day?”

Meg smiled. “It was good. Hung out with some people, wrote a lot. Went to a museum.”

He laughed. “A museum? Really?”

She nodded. “Is this for me?”

“Yes, please, sit.” Vegan Fred spooned out some food for Meg, placing it on her plate.

“What is it?” Meg asked.

“You told me to never tell you what you’re eating until you’re done,” he pointed out.

“Ah.” She nodded before picking up her fork. “Right.”

They ate, chatting about their respective days and laughing about the people they had met, the memories they had shared, the memories they hadn’t. Dinner was going fabulously.

“So,” Vegan Fred said. “Is it alright if I ask about your tattoos?”

Meg beamed. “I thought you never would.” She had seen him without his shirt on and knew he had at least three tattoos. 

“Tell me about them.”

Meg listed some of the people on her arms for the world to see. There was Jacob, and Riley, and Patrick, and Beatrice freaking Duke.

“Beatrice? Really?” Vegan Fred laughed. “Really?”

“Everyone was in love with her.” Meg laughed. “Even Peter has her tattoo.”

Vegan Fred made a face at that, so Meg skipped along quickly.

There was Robbie, the asshole, and Michelle, the sweetheart, and that dumb dinosaur tattoo of Ben’s that hard emerged simultaneously with Hero’s shining superhero mask, embedded over each other as a reminder of Hero’s sixteenth birthday. There was Amisha, and Taylor, and Rick, and Logan, and, and, and. 

Vegan Fred remained interested for the whole story, something Meg noticed he was good at. When Meg forgot who a tattoo belonged to, and then another, she stopped slowly. “There have been a lot.”

He nodded. “So they’re all on your arms?”

Meg laughed. “No, no. I have them all over my body. Just none on my neck or face.”

“Interesting.” Vegan Fred studied her for a moment. “What’s the most recent one?”

“This one.” Meg rolled up a pant leg and pointed to a watercolor tattoo that turned into a waterfall. “Alex.”

“How long ago was that?” he asked.

Meg hesitated. “Whoa.” She thought back and frowned. “Well before I came here.”

“Is that… significant?”

“I… normally I fell in love with a person once a week or so.” Meg bit her lip. “What does this mean? Have I run out of love to give?”

Vegan Fred shook his emphatically. “Meg, you run over with love. Maybe the love you feel for people now doesn’t show in your body.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Maybe… Maybe the love you feel for people leaves its mark on your heart. You know you love them; they know you love them. Maybe that’s all you really need now.” He smiled. “But I assure you, you haven’t run out of love to give.”

Meg felt a weight slip away from her shoulders. She had unknowingly been getting more tense, she realized, since she had moved to Wellington; she had started to feel bare from the lack of new tattoos, from the lack of new physical evidence of love. “I…. I was starting to think maybe all my love was gone,” she said softly, stirring her food around aimlessly on her plate. “Like maybe I had given it all away, and fifty tattoos was the limit, and I was going to have to live for the rest of my life without giving any more love.”

Vegan Fred’s smile grew. “I guess that’s the beauty about human beings.”

“What?” Meg fixated on the way his eyes were glowing, the joy and peace he always seemed to portray. “What’s the beauty about human beings?”

“Physicality isn’t everything there is to us. What’s on the inside, and what we do and say, that’s what really matters.” He stood up. “Are you done? I’ll clean the kitchen.”

“You made dinner. I’ll clean.” Meg stood up and took his plate. “Thanks, Vegan Fred.”

He nodded and patted her shoulder comfortingly. “Of course, Meg.”

\---

Meg woke up the next morning with a new tattoo: A butterfly emerging from her shell, wings spread, ready to take flight, on the back of her right hand, where she could see it whenever she wanted.

All the love she had been giving out to others, and she had never truly loved herself.

Fifty-one tattoos and counting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done!! Thank you to everyone who read this and complimented me; I appreciate it so much more than you can know.  
> Come talk to me on my tumblr (same username) ;)


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